The Guardian of Threshold (8 page)

“You’re home early,” he said.

“Yes, I’m a bit tired, and besides, I still have to finish my homework,” I said, running up the stairs and concealing the astral projection book under my jacket. I didn’t have the energy or the will to have a long and heated debate about religion. My dad was a self-confessed, devout atheist. If science didn’t recognize it as valid, neither did he.

As I got into my room, I took off my jacket and placed the book on top of the bed. My math homework was still on the floor, and I decided right then and there that was exactly where it would stay for the night.

I jumped in bed and started to devour the book. Mrs. Barnes was right; it described what had happened to me in great detail.

Just after ten o’clock I heard my dad approaching my room.

“May I come in?” he said as he entered the room.

“Sure,” I replied, quickly swapping the astral projection book for my math homework.

“Are you still doing homework? On a Friday?”

“I’m almost done. I figure I’d get some studying done for my test on Monday. I’ll have it finished before I go to sleep,” I said, feeling guilty for lying, but for the moment it was necessary.

“Wow! This is unheard of. Is this change permanent?” asked my dad with a hint of suspicion in his voice.

“Maybe it’s about time that I became more responsible. After all, I’m sixteen… isn’t that what you keep telling me?” I said, hoping our conversation wouldn’t last much longer.

I sensed my dad was feeling a bit under the weather, and although I had a pretty good idea what was bothering him, I asked, “Tough day?”

“No, it’s just that… life, well, it gets to me sometimes… you know…” He stopped talking and looked straight into my eyes. That’s when I realized he was almost crying.

I couldn’t resist the urge to get up to give him a heartfelt hug. He patted me on the back firmly and then cleared his throat. “Don’t worry, son, everything is fine. We’ll be fine, tiger.”

I knew my father well, and I also knew the unwritten and unspoken rule of the house: words like “death,” “died” and even “destiny” were forbidden. I’d learned to hate those words from a very young age, as if we didn’t say them, it would make it easier to forget. But it didn’t.

“Dad, you need to go out with friends sometimes and socialize,” I said, even though I knew it was useless.

“No, I’m not interested in going out, thank you very much,” he said as he stood up. “I don’t need anyone else.”

“Dad, I just meant for you go to some friend’s house and relax a bit. There is nothing wrong with being a bit social, you know?” I said.

“I’ll think about it,” he said, but I didn’t buy it. “Listen, don’t stay up too late. You have your flight test tomorrow.” He gave me a slight pat on the shoulder as he passed me on the way out.

“Sure, Dad, have a good night,” I said, smiling. It felt good to have a heart-to-heart with my dad. Let’s just say it was long overdue. I was proud of myself, because I felt that he left my room feeling better than when he came in.

As soon as my dad closed the door, I threw the math workbook down and resumed reading the astral projection book.

One of the first things the book emphasized was that astral projection, also known as astral travel or an out-of-body experience was as real and as normal as sleep, and anyone could do it.

Normally, I would have discarded everything that a book like this told me, but this book seemed different. Right in the epilogue, the author said that nobody should take his word for it, but instead he encouraged the readers to validate the experience for themselves.

Apparently once I succeeded at astral projection, a whole new world would open to me. I would be able to find and visit a dead relative, visit any place in the world or any other world, and pass through solid matter if I so wished… but the most intriguing and the one I was the most interested in was finding and visiting a dead relative.

Part of me screamed that all of these claims were nonsense and outright impossible, but I decided to follow the author’s advice and try it for myself. I figured it was worth a wild shot, given all that was at stake. Besides,
would the author give such bold advice if it wasn’t real?
I thought.

Time flew and soon the clock read 1:03 a.m. I had to get to bed soon.

Even though I was dead tired, I wanted to stay up reading, but decided against it. Not before I skipped to the chapter about “Astral Projection Techniques,” which was a step-by-step guide to achieving full-body separation.

I memorized what the book said was the most effective technique to astral travel, and then I got ready for bed.

I carefully hid the book under my bed and shut off the light on my nightstand, leaving the room illuminated only by a very faint yellow nightlight.

***

I followed the book’s instructions carefully, which said that I should contract and relax every muscle of my body, starting from my feet all the way to my head.

It took awhile, but eventually my body started to relax, and just as the book said it would do, after a few seconds I started to feel my feet and legs grow warm and start to tingle.

Relaxing the body didn’t prove to be too challenging, but quieting the mind proved to be an almost impossible task—just as the author had warned.

I was feeling very nervous and excited at the same time because tonight could be the night I would see my mother again… but it could also be the night I met that horrible thing.

It didn’t matter, though. I would face any number of dangers for even the slightest chance of seeing my dear mother again. It was my chance to feel whole again, and nothing would be able to keep me from trying.

I ended up finding out that the mind is a very hard thing to control. Not thinking about anything at all proved to be an impossible task, just as hard or even harder than the book emphasized.

I laid there for over thirty minutes and didn’t experience anything other than a mild tingling sensation in my legs. I was about to give up when I started to see lights floating through my closed eyes. Apparently, I had entered a state called the “hypnagogic state,” which was simply a “mental phenomena that occurred at the threshold of consciousness, when a person was in a between state, half awake and half asleep.”

Although I wasn’t sure what it all meant, I knew that I was seeing lights floating in and out my field of view even though my eyelids were completely closed, which the book had also warned me about so I wouldn’t be distracted.

Sleep was approaching quickly. I struggled not to give into it completely; I needed to hold onto a small thread of awareness if I was to succeed.

Some people took years to learn astral projection, but I didn’t have that kind of time. I wanted to see my mother, and the sooner the better. After all, I’d waited almost ten excruciating years already.

Suddenly, a wave of energy passed through me, it was like being hit by a 240-volt electric shock.

It was the same painless shock that I felt earlier that day. It was as though every cell of my body was vibrating at incredible speeds.

The lights behind my closed eyelids turned into a strange, bluish-green hazy image. It took me a few seconds to realize I was seeing my darkened bedroom, even though my eyes were closed.

I could see everything clearly.
How is that possible?
I wondered.
There’s no way
, I thought. It was impossible. If I had to guess, I would say I was no longer seeing the world through physical eyes.

Before I could get lost in the perplexity of things, I remembered the book’s warning against becoming too excited or my spirit wouldn’t be able to leave my physical body. So I tried my best to contain my excitement, confusion, and the millions of questions that crowded my mind.

I was now in somewhat familiar territory. I knew what should be coming next, and it brought me solace.

I expected to feel my spirit lift up slowly as it separated from the physical body, so I wasn’t too surprised when it actually happened.

I’d been expecting that. What I wasn’t expecting was the feeling of someone pressing hard against my chest and the sudden and severe difficulty in breathing. I also didn’t expect my heart rate to increase tenfold, nor did I know that I was going to be gasping desperately for air.

I was breathless and scared, my heart pounding hard. I wanted to cry, but the tears refused to fall. I wanted to beg for air, but my mouth refused to open.

I wanted to scream from the top of my lungs, but the air refused to vibrate out of me.

I wanted to get help, but my muscles didn’t respond.

I wanted to do all those things at once, but all I could do was lay there: breathless, motionless, in deafening silence, gasping, desperate for the breath of life, a mere glimpse of hope.

All I managed to get were short and insufficient gasps of air.

I felt that my life was in imminent danger and regretted all those times when I felt depressed and secretly wished my life would end. I was ashamed of my own weakness.

I remembered the dire warning from earlier, the warning I had ignored. In a way, I felt almost glad I didn’t listen. After all, one way or the other, I would see my mother again. Even if I’d wanted a different fate, a different destiny, it was too late. I was about to die. I was sure of it.

I’d given up all hope when I heard a mysterious and seemingly benevolent voice.

“Don’t worry, everything will be all right,” said the sweet voice. “No, you’re not dead or dying!” It answered my question even before I had a chance to ask.

“Help! I can’t breathe,” I thought, because that was the only thing I could still do.

“Just breathe normally. The sensation you’re feeling is your own doing,” said the voice calmly. “Your heart is fine, and so is your breathing. You need to control your emotions, and everything will be fine again,” the voice continued. The voice reminded me of an angel. Although I didn’t recognize it, it sounded familiar and even friendly.

Just moments after she said that, I was able to breathe a little easier and my heart rate returned to somewhat normal levels.

Slowly, the pressure in my chest was replaced with a gratifying sense of freedom, a gentle floating. I couldn’t have felt lighter if I was floating in space.

I looked around the room, but something felt strangely out of place, almost as if the room had maintained its essence but some of its details were wrong, including the location of my door and windows.

I focused my thought on my window, and suddenly I started to float toward it.

Did I move here by thought alone?

I decided to test this new theory, so I thought about the misplaced door, and sure enough, I found myself gliding gently toward it. It wasn’t long before I was standing next to it. Then I tried to think of the closet, and again I started to move toward it automatically, as though thought was the only required fuel. On the way, I thought about going up, and almost immediately I started to float up toward the ceiling.

I rather like this method of transportation
, I thought as I kept going to different areas of my room, allowing myself to enjoy the floating sensation. I even tried to do some somersaults, back flips, and other acrobatic moves that seemed impossible in the physical realm.

I enjoyed it so much that I forgot about the voice that had helped me just minutes before.

Soon I was spinning and rolling midair, turning around several times and loving my newfound freedom.

I looked down at my own physical body in bed.

Nothing could have prepared me for seeing my own body lying there, seemingly lifeless. It was a scary and surreal sight, and yet I didn’t care for it. It was as if I was looking at a used piece of clothing.

I realized I wasn’t my body. I was so much more. The real me was there looking at my old physical and useless self.

I still possessed all my memories. In fact, they were clearer than ever before—memories that were once a blur were now crystal clear. I possessed all my personality traits. All my fears, all my faults, all my shortcomings, and my virtues were all intact.

Instinctively, I knew my astral self was in fact real. I wasn’t that motionless body in the bed below. That was only a shell, a machine. Granted, it was a very precise machine. But my true self was this much lighter and fluid body, this body that allowed me to float around, pushing the boundaries of matter and physics.

Suddenly, I remembered the possibility of seeing my mother again.

***

As soon as the thought of my mother crossed my mind, I remembered my earlier experience. I remembered that raspy voice warning me to stay away from his realm—as if he was some sort of God, as though the undead world belonged to him. The scenery suddenly changed from the familiar surroundings of my bedroom to the musky and fetid cave from my nightmares.

I felt myself covered in mud and becoming stuck in a huge pit of sewage. Trapped and scared, I shivered uncontrollably.

I heard desperate screams in the distance, anguished pleas mixed with strange noises. The sounds seemed to be coming from all directions, making it hard to pinpoint their exact location.

A dense grey fog permeated the mud pit, making it almost impossible to find anything no matter how hard I looked. With much effort, I was able to move around the room a little, but I still couldn’t find the source of those desperate pleas.

I looked for an exit, but I couldn’t find one anywhere. I was about to give up when I decided to look above me, and that’s when I found the source of the screams. The moment I saw those poor beings, I wished I hadn’t.

Hanging in the air just a few feet above my head were very small and cramped cages dangling by old and rusty metal chains. The cages housed different beings and animals; most were too big to even fit in their cages, so much bigger in fact that the limbs of some of the biggest creatures dangled outside their cages. The situation was truly deplorable. In all my life, I had never heard of anything like it.

The smaller creatures seemed to be more vocal, as though their wills hadn’t yet been broken. The cries for help came from them—on average, they ranged from two feet to about four and a half feet tall. They were bald and skinny with eyes that seemed too big for their faces. The worst was their skin, which was covered with lesions and bruises. They didn’t look humanoid, but there was a faint resemblance. They were all covered with rags. Their voices were faint, yet with some effort I was able to understand some of what they were saying.